The moment those words left his mouth, Russell froze in surprise and hurriedly swallowed the food in his mouth.
"Really?"
"Lestrade said that."
Charlotte nodded. "By the way, we have one and a half minutes left."
Without hesitation, Russell quickly stuffed the remaining steak on his plate into his mouth, gulped down some water, and forced the food down his throat. Because he had eaten too fast, he immediately started coughing.
"Cough, cough..."
"Are you trying to commit suicide? Even if you're in a hurry, you can't eat like that!" Mrs. Hudson lightly patted Russell's back. "Leave the plate there. I'll clear it away. Take care on your way."
"Understood, Mrs. Hudson!" Russell replied, already hurrying after Charlotte, who had reached the door.
The carriage arrived a little later than scheduled. Charlotte and Russell boarded it and heard Lestrade's voice.
"Good evening to you both."
"Good evening, Inspector Lestrade." Russell nodded.
"You are one minute late," Charlotte said.
"Please don't mind that. I'm not a machine, so I can't act precisely on schedule every minute," Lestrade said casually. "Besides, because of the chaos Moriarty caused, I've been stuck on the phone for the past few days and I'm sick of it. I barely managed to free up a little time."
As he spoke, he pinched the bridge of his nose, looking exhausted.
"Seriously, that man doesn't think about other people's lives at all when he commits crimes."
"Except for those who brought it on themselves, why do I have to suffer like this too…?"
[Lestrade's Malice Points +50]
Russell remained silent, quietly gazing out the window.
"Mr. Charles Brown has mostly recovered, hasn't he?" Charlotte asked directly.
"More or less." Lestrade nodded. "Vanessa called me. She's Charles's attending physician."
"What do you mean by 'more or less'?" Charlotte frowned. "If he's cured, he's cured. If he's not, he's not. What does 'more or less' even mean?"
"Exactly… He has regained basic language ability and the capacity for independent action," Inspector Lestrade said. "However, this state isn't permanent. Occasionally, he still falls into stressful conditions."
Lestrade took a silver flask from his pocket and took a sip.
"When the name Moriarty comes up, they react the most strongly. Second, it's best not to show him anything related to masks, melting candles, or similar things."
"What happens when he's under stress?" Russell asked with great interest.
"He becomes hysterical, insane, incoherent… exactly like a madman." Lestrade shrugged, then looked at Charlotte. "So we need to think carefully about how to phrase our questions later. Too direct and it might overwhelm him, but too indirect and he might not understand. He's only just regained his ability to speak and is still suffering considerable mental anguish."
Lestrade pointed to his own head.
"Can a mere thief scare him this badly?" Charlotte frowned.
"Hmm… Honestly, I can understand his feelings quite well. I'm about to go crazy myself," Lestrade said.
Russell maintained his silence once again.
That night, Cambridge was wrapped in silence.
The carriage soon stopped in front of what appeared to be a heavily guarded sanatorium building. This was one of London's finest private high-end care facilities, catering to many wealthy clients. Lestrade had gone to great lengths to sneak Charles in.
Well, he doesn't have to pay for it himself.
The three of them got out of the carriage and, led by Lestrade, entered the white building filled with the smell of disinfectant. The corridor was long, lined with monotonous white walls. Here and there were closed doors with small observation windows. Occasionally, a nurse pushing a gurney rushed past.
"Dr. Vanessa is waiting for you in the meeting room."
Lestrade led the two to the reception room door and pushed it open. Inside sat an intellectual-looking woman in her thirties, wearing a white coat and gold-rimmed glasses.
"Good evening, Inspector Lestrade." She stood up and extended her hand to Lestrade.
"Good evening, Dr. Vanessa." Lestrade shook her hand. "This is Charlotte Holmes, and this is her assistant, Russell Watson."
"Miss Charlotte Holmes, I've heard a lot about you." Vanessa's gaze turned to Charlotte, mixed with curiosity and a keen observational eye.
"Then let's get straight to the point, Doctor. How is Charles Brown's condition?" Charlotte asked directly.
"He's much better than when he was first brought in." Vanessa nodded and picked up the medical records from the table. "He can now communicate normally and has almost fully regained his logical thinking ability. However, there are still a few issues. Inspector Lestrade should have already briefed you on the way here."
"Yes, Inspector Lestrade gave me a general explanation of his stress reactions," Russell nodded and offered to take the lead in speaking.
"Yes." Vanessa pushed up her glasses. "We've found that the patient shows extreme fear or aversion to certain words or images. For example, masks, shadows, melting things, and…"
She paused and looked at Charlotte.
"…Moriarty."
"So, what about the password?" Charlotte asked directly. "Has he remembered anything? Did he mention any numbers?"
"No." Vanessa shook her head. "When he's sane, he's no different from an ordinary person."
However, when it came to talking about Moriarty, Vanessa didn't say anything more.
"In short, he's recovering quite well for now. That's why I contacted you all. If there's any clue you want to know, it's best to ask now. Evening is when his activity level is lowest."
"Yes, thank you for your hard work, Miss Vanessa," Russell nodded. "You're welcome. Glad to help."
Vanessa smiled and shook her head. Then she led the three to the door of Charles Brown's hospital room.
"He's right here," Vanessa said. "When speaking with him, try to use a calm tone, avoid getting excited or aggressive, and give him as much time as possible to think and remember. Of course, the most important thing is—"
"Don't say the name Moriarty."
"That's correct." Vanessa nodded, reached out, pushed open the door, and entered.
"Charles, some friends have come to visit you."
…